Sometimes I just can't escape the feeling that this city doesn't want me here.
I know, I know, that's totally illogical and not at all in line with my normal mode of thought. It's probably just a case of living in a less-than-ideal place (for my standards anyway), in order to pursue my career.
But I can't help but feel like I'm on the receiving end of a willful aggression when I'm walking in this city during a rainstorm, and that stupid, constant, crushing wind pushes against my umbrella and completely negates its protection.
Or when I'm waiting for a train at 42nd St. and the express roars in, screaming against my eardrums.
Or when I'm forced to look at any of the shouting headlines of the Post or Daily News while dozens of people read the garbage during their commute.
Or when the cave dwellers next to my apartment are out at 2 AM hitting things with sticks (I do not exaggerate).
These things go beyond unpleasant to the point that I feel a malignant force pushing against my daily routines here.
Or maybe I just need to lay off the peyote.
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